This was one of those “Quick” Post moments as I normally could care less but this was on my mind and I thought to write about it:

This guy on a TV show where backyards are WAY overhauled had the idea to put rice in as a plant. The show gave us a glimpse of Taiwan and how rice is grown in soaked fields. He had his team of landscapers in the U.S. undertake the idea of putting rice in this Los Angeles backyard with a huge Buddha statue. The idea was beautiful, but I thought it was more interesting when the head landscaper went to ONE, that’s right, ONE local plants nursery and asked if rice plants could be special ordered. He said, “NO” and that the plants resemble wheat plants. So, in the end she used wheat. How wheat, Buddha, Los Angeles and an oriental family fit into the original idea is nutty. Apparently he did not do his research as thoroughly as they make this guy out to be; he supposed to be like the James Bond do-it-all or nothing garden guy who’s world-traveled. The house owner wanted to be able to see his kids play in the backyard from indoors. That’s not going to happen with big tiers of wheat growing. What gets to me is that these “designers” automatically assume to decorate the interior/exterior to fit the homeowners heritage. What if they have parties that celebrate hamburgers, hotdogs and martinies while wearing old skool anthrax, Beastie Boys or Weird Al T-shirts? What if one of this kids loses his PSP or cell phone in a pretend rice field. What gets me more yet is the “professional” plant person who asked about special orders said that the closes she’s seen to real rice plants is a “rice patty.” I hear the crickets in the audience now.

Can meditation become typing with eyes closed, or would Buddha differ?

Dog is snoring, husband is emotionally drained.

Does he not realize we all are out of emotion?

Parents are lovely when they still put you down as a grown adult.

Yet, in their eyes, words are just words.

Yet, to this author, words are a sword, a bullet, and brain all in one.

Nightime sinks into me fast; bartenders must have all the luck?

A mother I am, a mother is to me. Does that matter?

I think sometimes more or equally.

I hear so many, “I wish(es)…” about what was or should have been.

Yet, if ye got what ye wished for ye would still wish.

A waterfall is beautesque. Spell check says “wrong!”

Beautesque could be pretty and beast in one.

Life giving, life taking, and ignored yet free for all to see, drink from or leave.

A city hums like a well working bee hive.

Amazed at the need for no car, imagining the money one could save.

If so many are living the city life, what is this poor economy?

Or, is it a way for Washington to obtain a paycheck raise?

This poem is going awkward, but let it bee.

Maybe this is not poetry, but we are the poetry and life writes us. Line by line.

Letter by letter we are born one by one, 25 of us on replay. Making us not so unique; all the same just different too.

Will Smith turned 7 Pounds from a Pursuit of Happiness yet one movie had less than 7 dollars as and issue and the other movie had happiness being sought after in connection.

Another famous person looked of jungle in the asphalt, the marrying a millionare was move-quality, trying to make Sense Out of Life while Monkey Business pre-premiered.

Eons, decade, skin color, genitalia and technology apart, yet these two actors had it figured out and wanted to create, write, act, display and show the world what it’s all about.

No, no fantasy, no 3d blue smurfs, just plain ‘ol effort and art on display; inter-connected through something some say, “there ARE NO mistakes.”

I gave respect; I got none back. I tried, tried again; still nothing. One decade, I spoke to Jesus personally and my life literally thrived from end-to-end; I was a shining example of reward. Then, the basement crumbled and everything slowly fell away with it into a dark black hole of pain and emptiness that haunts, leaves for a while, and becomes a stepping stone for some to use to cause me more pain. As one commenter said, “life sucks.” Yes, I agree. One book read that the character thought she was on earth living in her own personal hell. If Jesus can redeem, then where was he when…. the list is long. But also, where was Gandi, Buddha, Moses, Abraham, The Trinity, Mar

y, Allah and the rest of the clan? Are they at Java Dreams?

I can see my rambling is going nowhere. However, maybe it has touched some soul out there waiting for the words to be said so he or she could stop thinking it. Well then, it’s posted. It is said.